


Swing the Sword

by pinkmaven



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Payback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmaven/pseuds/pinkmaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested by Anonymous from Tumblr.</p><p>Jonsa prompt: Shortly after Jon is named king, Littlefinger ups his needling of Sansa about how Jon is her half-brother. It doesn't work as Littlefinger intends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swing the Sword

She saw that devious look in his eyes when the lords of the north declared Jon king, she had seen it one time before when she and Lady Brienne had secretly met up with him at an old shack in Mole’s Town. He declared that Jon Snow was only her “half-brother,” something Sansa could hardly forget, since he took every opportunity to remind her of this fact over and over again. By the old Gods and the new, if she heard it one more time she’d cut him down herself.

Today for some strange reason, Jon was being very secretive. He instructed her to meet him in the crypts of Winterfell, where they had some important business to discuss. Before she got there, Sansa was intercepted by Littlefinger, who began his same old song and dance. What he didn’t realize was that Sansa knew how to play the game now, and was aware that anyone Littlefinger would invest that much time into must be a threat. 

“Lady Sansa” He hissed. Stepping out of the shadows, and bowing before her.

“That half-brother of yours has thwarted my every attempt at making him a match from the Vale. Do you know why that is?” His eyes glinted, and then searched her face in an accusatory way.

“Lord Baelish, if Jon wishes to share such personal matters with someone, it certainly wouldn’t be me.” Of course he knew this was a lie, after seeing these two in deep conversations, sometimes..even holding hands, he knew that she was withholding information from him, and he wasn’t very happy about it.

They both parted ways, and Sansa entered the crypts where Jon was waiting for her.

“I got a raven from the wall…” his voice trailed off. His shoulders looked heavy like they were carrying the weight of the world. On closer inspection she realized that he was shaking, the letter still clutched in his hand.

“What did it say?” She started to panic. Was it the whitewalkers? did they breach the wall? her thoughts ran wild.

“It’s from Bran, he says that she,” he pointed to the statue of aunt Lyanna, "is my mother," “and Rhaegar Targaryen is my father.” His voice started to crack, and Sansa embraced the man she once thought of as a bastard, and a living symbol of her father’s betrayal. 

She was gobsmacked that Bran was even alive, but the fact that he was now apparently a “greenseer/three eyed raven,” something she thought was a silly tale Old Nan would conjure up for the entertainment of her and her siblings. He sees things that happened in the past, and knows what will happen in the future, and now he knows that Jon is no bastard, but the true born son of winter. 

After sending a raven to Sam in the Citadel, he confirms that there are documents there which prove Jon’s true parentage. Together, Jon and Sansa decided to keep this to themselves.

Sansa now wants nothing more than to claw Littlefinger’s eyes out, when he persists with his badmouthing of Jon. Something had to give.

One early morning some house Glover bannermen, came back to Winterfell huffing and puffing, completely unable to catch their breath, that a tall brooding man, with a half melted face was demanding to have a metting with her and Jon. Sansa couldn’t believe her ears, but that could only be one person, The Hound.

She instructed the men to let him in, and she and Jon waited for Sandor Celgane to come before them. As she fixed her cloak beneath the table, she was unaware that The Hound was already there.

“Little bird.” He said smiling up at the not so little woman before him. She was no longer a fragile little dove, but a strong oak tree. 

Her head shot up. “Ser Sandor, I should have left with you when I had the chance, but naivete took hold.” 

“Anyway, what brings you here this fine day?” Sansa asked flatly.

“I just came to warn you about a certain “advisor,” and needed a place to kip in for the night.”

Only the three of them were in the room, so Sansa tried to pry as much information out of him as possible before regular activities at Winterfell commenced. The next day The Hound was gone,and though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was one of the only people who made her time in Kings Landing bearable. 

“He was directly involved in my father being killed! And all this time I saw him as a father figure who swore to protect me. Littlefinger will rue the day.” She grabbed hold of Jon’s hand and squezed it, willing him to make his move. Turning to look at her he said, “what would you like me to do about him?” 

“We’re going to catch him in his lie. Execution is the name of the game.” Sansa felt like such a fool for believing Littlefinger, even after he gave her to that monster Ramsay. But this was the final straw, she would have his head this time.

Forging a letter from Cersei, that spoke of the events which led up to her father’s execution, Sansa waited patiently for his response. Every letter he sent unbeknownst to him was now being intercepted. Until finally, a house Cassel bannerman brought her the letter she needed to sink him. It was in his handwiriting, and signed with the house Arryn seal. 

Sansa arranged for him to meet her in the Godswood, where his sick twisted games would be turned on him. 

“Petyr, you look well.” Sansa smiled, holding back as much as she could.

“Have you changed your mind about the offer I made you Lady Sansa?” His lips contorted into a smirk, and she felt the urge to smack it off.

“I have been giving it a lot of thought, but before we go any further there’s something I want to show you…” she pulled out the letter and brandished it in front of him, making sure that it wasn’t within arms reach. Knowing Littlefinger, his main goal would be to destroy this letter. Sure enough he sent snow at it in an attempt of smudge the words, but Sansa pulled away in time.

“You will never wed me, or any other woman. You will never father children. You will never know true love.” As she said those words to him, tears welled up in her eyes.

In an instant Jon was standing behind her, his hand pressed firmly on her back.

The following day Petyr was due to meet the Gods.

“Lord Petyr Baelish, you are sentenced to death for the crimes of murder and treason.” Jon declared, Lifting longclaw into the air he said finally, “Any last words?’ 

The manipulative, self-assured man Sansa had always known was no more. Instead Littlefinger seemed to have a break from reality, as his head lay on the cold slab of rock. 

“Cat…it was all for you….always for you, go ahead Ned end me! Like your brother ended me so long ago. I will always love you Cat.” And just as he got his final word out Jon severed his head clean from his neck, Littlefinger’s blood flowed painting the green grass red. 

Turning to look at Sansa, Jon ran his hand down her cheek.

“Are you happy now?” he asked lightheartedly, peering deep into her soul through those turquoise eyes.

“Yes Jon, I am.” 

THE END.


End file.
